


The Hearth Blossom Market

by LettuceShoes



Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar, Sunless Sea
Genre: Aromantic Characters, Asexual Characters, Cottagecore, Country & Western, F/F, Fallen Frontier, Fallen London OC's, Other, Queerplatonic Relationships, cute space bats, fallen london AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27428944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LettuceShoes/pseuds/LettuceShoes
Summary: Victoria Clarke is new to Port Avon and doesn't feel welcome in her new town, but everything changes when she meets two strange people who invite her into Hearth Blossom Market
Relationships: Mrs. Hearth/Mrs. Bloom (OC's)
Kudos: 2





	The Hearth Blossom Market

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first ever post/story!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who supported me so far! and especially to my Bestie who helped me edit all this!
> 
> I'm not super familiar with Fallen London and Sunless Sea, but my friends really like it and told me all about the Masters and the Curators, I was so enamored that I just had to write a little something about some Curator characters that I invented!
> 
> This doesn't take place in the typical Fallen London universe, instead its more of an American Frontier setting! So I'm dubbing it the Fallen Frontier AU!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> !Trigger Warning!  
> There is a part where one of the characters has a panic/anxiety attack, if this could affect you please read carefully (its right after she leaves the general store and ends at the next ---- break)

It hadn’t been long since Victoria had moved to Port Avon. Her husband had decided to move them here in hopes of finding a trove of souls and striking it rich. She supposed it was fine, but she hated leaving her friends and family in Port Prosper. Her husband had found no issue in making friends with the locals, he went out to the pubs and drank until any hostilities were forgotten and he was taken in as one of the fold.  
Victoria, however had not been so lucky, she saw the way they looked at her in the streets, disdain and hatred thinly veiled through the shadows of bonnets and hats. Husbands would usher their families away, and shop keepers would refrain from making small talk as soon as she walked in. They treated her like a stranger here, and she had never felt more alone. She was no longer Victoria here, now she was Mrs. Clarke, the strange wife of that nice treasure seeker who just moved in down the street. People made no effort to get to know her, and after a few attempts of her own she’d stopped trying as well.  
She rarely went into town anymore, preferring instead to spend her days in their homestead making quilts, embroidering, and tending to her small rose garden out front the house. Her husband either spent his days in the ruins or in the alehouses, so much of her days were spent alone. She pretended not to mind, but in honesty her days were lonesome, and she longed for companionship.  
With a final knot, she finished her current patch she was adding to the quilt, a sort of orange floral pattern, and reached down to grab her next square, but alas, to her dismay, she found her basket empty. She would have to make her way into town tomorrow and buy some more patches at the general store. Her chest grew heavy thinking of all the eyes that would glower at her from the shadows, those stares of disapproval, as though they were looking through her and judging her very bones. Shaking her head to clear it, Victoria took a deep breath. Going into town was near torture, but if she wanted to maintain her sanity in isolation, she needed more fabric squares.  
The next day arrived, and while Victoria had wanted to go early in the morning to avoid the gaze of the townsfolk, her dread had made her drag her feet, and it was near noon by the time she finally slunk into town. The streets were crowded, and she could feel every eye on her. Quickly, she walked towards the general store, and ducked inside, eager to avoid the bustling crowds, and preferring instead the quiet disapproval of Mr. Taylor, the owner of the shop.  
“Excuse me Sir,” Victoria stated, in an attempt to gain the shop keep’s attention. He ignored her and continued shelving and re-shelving items behind the counter, his back to her all the while. “Sir if you don’t mind, I’m looking to purchase some quilting fabric, I’ve run out of what I brought with me.”  
He didn’t turn around, or even pause in his shelving, but nonetheless Victoria heard his gruff and reluctant voice ring out through his small store, “Out of stock.”  
“Out of stock? What do you mean you’re out of stock?” Victoria asked desperately.  
“Means, I’m out of stock,” He answered in a short voice, “Ain’t got none here, don’t intend to order none.”  
Victoria was stunned, she had spent so long working up the courage to come into town, and now even her efforts were for naught. Suddenly, she grew very aware of the other patrons in the store. She had been so focused earlier on her goal of buying fabric and going home that she hadn’t noticed how quiet they all had gotten when she entered the shop, but now she was keenly aware at their disdainful glares. Victoria shrank a little in her place, but couldn’t find the motivation to move, all she could think about was getting the fabric squares and going home, she had one mission, she had to accomplish it.  
Working up her courage again, she managed to squeak out a few words despite the oppressive atmosphere in the room, “Some, fabric…squares?”  
At this, Mr. Taylor whipped around and brought his face very close to hers, his eyes aflame with rage, “I do not have any Mrs. Clarke,” He spat out her name as though he was trying to rid his mouth of filth. “And since you don’t seem to be looking to purchase anything else, I suggest you leave,” his eyes narrowed at her in challenge.  
Victoria’s eyes stung, and she glanced around the room, hoping for someone to come to her aide. The other patron’s eyes met hers, but there was no kindness in those eyes, only hate and vitriol, she thought she saw few looks of pity, but surely that was her imagination.  
Blinking sharply, Victoria turned on her heel and ran out of the shop. However, here she was in the open, more eyes stared at her with disdain and judgment, she seemed to shrink while the world grew larger, the eyes staring into her very soul, judging her as though they were the heavenly choir themselves. Her breath came short and fast, heart threatening to leap right out her chest. Her gaze darted in every direction. Hoping, daring for an escape, somewhere she could hide from the prying eyes, and judgement of the world around her. She wanted to go home, she wanted to go back to Port Prosper, but she couldn’t, but she just wanted to go home, but she had to stay, but-  
Her frantic thoughts stopped for just a moment as she noticed a shaded alleyway not too far off, tucked between the butcher’s shop and a local pub she’d heard her husband mention once or twice. She glanced around quickly, they were all staring, she needed to escape, needed to get away from the oppressive glares of the town’s folk, the eyes that always seemed to follow her. With barely a second thought, she darted into the alleyway and ducked behind a barrel, shielding herself from the relentless scrutiny of the street.  
She willed herself to calm down, they weren’t looking at her anymore, their eyes were pointed elsewhere, she was fine, she was fine, she was- The tears came hot and heavy, a wail threatened to escape her throat but she bit it back, determined not to draw any more attention to herself. Victoria felt so small, but she found herself wanting to become smaller, to shrink away from her tears and emotions. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she buried her face in the fold of her dress, and let the tears come unbidden.  
\-----------  
She’d lost track of how long she’d been in the alleyway. It could have been a few minutes, or it could have been a few hours. In between her sniffles and sobs she tried to take deep breaths. In, out, in out, but it seemed to be of no use, as much as she tried to calm herself, her body kept shaking and while she might feel calm for a moment, her emotions would drag her right back into sobs again after mere seconds.  
So consumed was she in her sobs and trying to control her emotions, that she barely registered the other figure now standing in the alleyway. She didn’t even notice until it draped a quilt over her shoulders, sat next to her, and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. Victoria jumped at the touch, surprised, and shocked out of the spiraling darkness she had been facing up until that point. Someone was sitting next to her. Someone had cared enough to- was this a quilt?  
Looking up she noticed the figure next to her, they were taller than just about anyone she had met, even taller than most men. The dusty lavender dress they wore appeared somehow ill fitted yet perfectly suited at the same time. As she slowly moved her gaze to meet the surely judgmental stare of her visitor, she was met instead by a cream-colored veil, dangling from their bonnet. There were no eyes to see, there were no eyes to meet. But she knew those eyes were still there, still judging. Victoria looked back to her feet, embarrassed to have been caught crying, but held fast by the warmth of the quilt around her shoulders.  
They sat like that for a while, neither of them saying a word, the mysterious figure keeping a gentle hand on Victoria’s shoulder. Eventually the veiled stranger spoke, “Feelin’ better hon?” Victoria was slightly surprised, there was no judgment there, the voice was smooth and high pitched, it reminded her of honey. Startled into silence, Victoria just nodded.  
“Would ya care for a cup’a tea? Ya still seem a might spooked.” The voice offered, devoid of judgement, as though it were simply stating a fact. Victoria, thought for a second, she didn’t know this person, but she was so tired now, and the blanket was so warm, the voice so comforting. Perhaps a cup of tea would do her good, it couldn’t make her feel worse could it? She nodded.  
The woman, or at least Victoria thought it was a woman, stood up slowly and dusted off her dress. When she was done she offered Victoria a hand to help her to her feet, which Victoria accepted, still clutching the quilt around her. They walked a little ways down the alley until they came across a quaint wooden door, surrounded by plants and climbing ivy on all sides. The woman knocked, thrice quickly, a pause and one more pointed knock, another pause and she opened the door.  
Inside Victoria was greeted by all manner of greenery and crafts tools. The room was large but made small by the placement of the shelves, giving it a disorganized but cozy atmosphere. The shelves themselves were filled with quilting squares, yarn, and embroidery thread of every color. Yards of fabric hung between the rafters, creating a comforting roof of familiar patterns. Scattered around the shop at seemingly random intervals were plants of every shape and size, some she recognized, others she didn’t but everywhere she looked her eyes landed on at least one piece of greenery, often times more.  
As she took it all in, the mystery woman gently lead her to a small table near the fireplace, and sat her down in a chair, “Wait here a moment dear, I’ll fetch the tea, will you be alright by yourself?” the words pulled Victoria back to the moment, and she nodded in response.  
Victoria tried to wait patiently and politely, but it wasn’t long before her eyes once more began to wander, drawn by the cacophony of colors and patterns. She zeroed in on some of the fabrics draped from the ceiling, Herr eyes drifted from bolt to bolt, some cream colored fabric peppered with small pink roses above her, a lovely blue gingham off to her right, and there, nestled near one of the back corners, the perfect strawberry pattern she needed to complete her quilt.  
She had been so focused and enamored with the comforting tent of linens, that she had neglected to notice the sound of soft footsteps coming up behind her. She did not, however, neglect to jump a little out of her chair when whatever was behind declared a rather loud greeting in what had been a rather quiet room. “Bless my stars and call me a fool! Hearth didn’t mention nothin’ about no guests!”  
Victoria whipped around in panic and fright, mostly fueled by the adrenalin from the sudden encounter, but she soon calmed; if only a little when she was met with a near identical figure to the one that had brought her here, save for the fact that this mysterious woman seemed to have more a penchant for pink, as it was the primary color of her wardrobe. She tried to glimpse a face beneath the rose-colored veil but couldn’t make anything out.  
“How many times must I tell you not to spook our visitors?” rang out a voice from the doorway, as the woman in purple returned carrying a ceramic tea set.  
“Sorry there, Hearth, ya know how excited I get when we get someone new in the shop,” the pink clad figure stooped down and turned her attention back toward Victoria, “I didn’t spook ya too much did I?” Victoria, with her voice still lost to shock, could only shake her head.  
Sighing, the other woman set the tea set down on the table, wrists curving inward unnaturally, “I suppose introductions are in order,” She straightened up and gestured to herself and her companion, “I am Mrs. Hearth, and this is Mrs. Bloom, we run this here shop together, and service women of all sorts, in places ‘round the High Wilderness. Often times ladies find themselves here on account of needing wool, or linen, or seeds for a garden, but every so often a lady might find herself here needing a little bit more.”  
At this Mrs. Bloom nudged Victoria’s arm playfully with her elbow, and almost sent Victoria to the floor with a strength one would not have attributed to a woman her size, “She’s talking ‘bout you, sugar.”  
Victoria was taken aback by this revelation, what did they mean when they said they “service women of all sorts” and what exactly did it mean that Victoria herself apparently needed more than a bit of fabric?  
Mrs. Hearth glimpsed the slight panic in the eyes of her new guest and deduced that something had been misunderstood, it continued, “Some ladies find themselves less in need of material goods and more in need of…,” she paused looking for the right words, “companionship and camaraderie. We also offer that here Hearth Blossom Market. We pride ourselves on being not just the best home goods emporium every side of New Winchester, but also on being a gathering place for women who need a little friendliness in their lives.” Pausing, she turned to face Victoria, “Does that sound like something that would interest you?”  
Stunned she looked around, not fully sure what these strange women were offering her. Were they inviting her to be part of some exclusive club? What if it was all a joke? An elaborate scheme to humiliate her and drive her back to her little homestead outside of town? She wouldn’t put it past the townsfolk, they had already taken the time to humiliate her and make her feel unwelcome. She sipped her tea, a smooth chamomile with rose hips, and was taken in for a moment in its mild sweet and floral aroma. Suddenly she was back in her childhood home, breathing rapidly and unsure of herself, when her mother gently pressed a warm cup into her hands, and urged her to sip a tea not unlike the one she was drinking now. Her mother’s arms closed around her in a warm embrace, and she felt like she belonged, and she was loved. Victoria closed her eyes as the gentle melody of her mother’s humming sent calm vibrations through her body, and through the air.  
The memory faded, and she was returned to her position at the table in the fabric shop. She noticed that the clock on the wall had moved forward by at least 10 minutes, she had been lost in the memory of better days, long since passed. The time for a polite answer to Mrs. Hearth’s question had faded away while she was lost in her daydream, but neither of the women seemed particularly concerned by Victoria’s prolonged silence. Mrs. Bloom just sat nearby, staring into the fire that had, at some point, been started in the fireplace, and Mrs. Hearth sat across the table, demurely sipping her own cup of tea.  
Mrs. Hearth was the first to notice that Victoria had emerged from her stupor, carefully she set her cup down with naught but the tiniest clink. “How are you feeling dear?”  
Victoria opened her mouth, ready to express her concerns and anxiety, ready to refuse their offer and walk out of the store. However, she found that she could express none of these emotions for they were no longer true, she was still uncertain, but yes, she felt much calmer than she had mere minutes ago. She replied hesitantly, “I’m feeling fine, I think. I’m still not too sure about all this, but I feel alright. “she paused, feeling like she had more to say, “Thank you for the tea.”  
Underneath its veil, Mrs. Hearth smiled, a sharp toothy smile stretching from ear to ear and splitting it’s face in two distinct halves, “Think nothing of it dear, and as for our shop being a gathering place, I assure you nothing untoward happens here. Think of it as a girl’s club if you will. A few times per month we hold meetings here in the parlor, where we’ll serve tea and some nibbles, and allow women such as yourself to find a bit of home no matter where they are, “ Mrs. Hearth paused, wondering if now was a good time to bring up the matter of the small fee they required of each of their guests, “If you’d like, why not drop in on our next get together? Just be sure to bring an interesting little tidbit of scandalous chatter. When are we holding it again Bloom?”  
At this, Bloom who had been sitting mostly quietly and only a little fidgety, piped up, “Why I reckon it’ll be this Saturday at right about 2 in the afternoon!” turning to Victoria she added, “Oh, please say you’ll join us! It is a right good time!”  
Victoria pondered her options for a moment. It didn’t seem as though there was anything suspicious happening here. It seemed to be just like any other get together amongst a group of women, like a book club or tea party from the sound of it. She supposed there would be no harm in stopping in come Saturday, but “What about the folks from town?” she asked, “None of them like me very much, and I don’t think I’d much enjoy spending an afternoon with the lot of them.”  
“Don’t worry about that darlin’,” Mrs. Hearth assured, “These little get togethers are for a certain kind of woman, we pick our clientele very carefully, and I can assure you that you shall not be made a fool of. We do not tolerate that kind of behavior.”  
She’d run out of excuses, if this gathering weren’t anything suspicious, and she wouldn’t be made fun of, what did she have to lose? Anyway, it did sound rather intriguing, and she wouldn’t mind having a few friends. Taking a deep breath, Victoria nodded, “Yes, I supposed there’s no harm in it. Can’t promise I’ll stay for long though.”  
Mrs. Hearth nodded, “That’s quite alright dear, just do what you can,” picking up the tea pot she offered, “More tea?”  
Victoria shook her head this time, “I really should get going, it’s getting a bit late and I’m sure my husband will be wondering where I am.” If he’s even noticed I’m missing, she thought.  
Mrs. Bloom deflated slightly, “Oh that’s a real shame,” She tilted her head towards Victoria, “But we’ll be seein’ you again come Saturday right?”  
“Yes,” Victoria replied somewhat cheerfully, “I suppose you will.”  
“Is there anything else we can do for you hun?” Mrs. Hearth inquired.  
“Now that you mention it,” Victoria glanced over at the fabrics, “I originally came into town to buy some fabric for my quilt, and I think you have just the right one over there, the one with the strawberries?” she pointed in the direction of the fabric that had caught her eye.  
Mrs. Hearth turned around to see which fabric it was she had pointed to, “Ah yes! That’s one of my favorites, let me pull it down for you.” She got up and walked over to the bolt, before proceeding to cut it into perfectly sized quilting squares and wrap the small stack with a neatly tied ribbon with a practiced precision. She offered the package to Victoria, who reached into her skirt pocket, before her eyes went wide.  
“I’m so sorry,” Victoria’s voice came out high pitched and wobbly, “I-I thought I’d tucked the money away in my pocket b-but it doesn’t seem to be there,” she lowered her head and tried not to cry, she couldn’t even accomplish the one task she set out to do.  
She felt a hand on her chin, tilting her head up to look at the veil of Mrs. Hearth. “Child, there’s no need to worry, it’s ok. Here take this, “Mrs. Hearth thrust the package of fabric into Victoria’s arms, “and don’t worry about payment just yet. Ok darlin’? Just make sure to bring us an extra juicy bit of chatter on Saturday?” She wiped away a tear that had escaped Victoria’s eye.  
\--------  
Mrs. Hearth and Mrs. Bloom stood in the doorway to their shop and waved at Victoria as she left, heading for home. When at last she disappeared around the corner and was lost to their sight, they stepped back inside.  
“I think that went quite well,” Mrs. Hearth remarked, removing it’s veil and helping Bloom to do the same. They gathered up the tea set and brought it over to a small couch in the far corner of the room, hidden away by shelves upon shelves of fabrics and plants. Bloom stopped momentarily to check a few leaves that had begun to yellow, before plucking them swiftly and shoving them into it’s pocket.  
“Ya think she’ll come back, Hearth?” Bloom asked, staring deep into Hearth’s pitch-black eyes and taking her place at the far right of the couch, lounging with it’s legs on the upholstery and elongating to reach the other side, narrowly avoiding hitting it’s head on the ceiling in the process.  
Hearth poured two cups of tea, one plain, and one with 4 cubes of sugar, and, after giving it a look to make some room, sat down next to Bloom on the couch, keeping the plain tea for itself and offering Bloom the other. “I do, Bloom. Or at least I certainly hope so.”  
There was a moment of silence before Hearth took a sip of it’s tea, sighed, and buried it’s fur covered face into Bloom’s shoulder, taking care not to hit Bloom’s face with it’s large ears and nearly melting with contentment in the process.  
The two Curator’s settled in for the night, shifting to fit perfectly into the space left by the other. Each with their own book to keep entertained, slowly sipping on their tea, reluctant to get up for refills and simply enjoying the company of the other. Hoping against hope that they’d been able to improve the life of one lonely woman, and gain both a customer and friend, But for now none of that mattered, the shop was closed for the day, the firelight cast strange and comforting shadows along the walls, and they were together, which made every moment they shared a cherished one.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I might continue this story but I don't have much of a time frame.  
> subscribe if you want to be notified when/if I update I guess!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
